


Out of His Element

by nybrat007



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nybrat007/pseuds/nybrat007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke tries his hand at convincing Sebastian to come out with the rest of the group for a bonding experience at the Hanged Man.  Sebastian doesn't tell him that this interferes in the life he'd pledged to the Chantry, until it's too late and Hawke gets to find out first hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of His Element

_“I am never setting foot into that place, Hawke.”_

"C _’mon.  It’s like a team bonding… thing.  You’re part of the team, right?”_

_“I—“_

_“Sure you are!  So leave the bright shiny armor at home and just come down and relax and, I don’t know, get to know these people.  They’re not as sin-ridden as you probably think they are.”  He paused.  “Well not all of them.  They’re mostly harmless.  For the most part.”_

_“That’s not a shining endorsement for our teammates, Hawke.”_

_“Think about it?”_

_“I will… think about it.  I can promise no more.  If Elthina needs me then I cannot disregard her.”_

" _That’s all I could ask for.”_

 ___________________

 

It had taken more than a little bit of persuading on Hawke’s part, but he felt triumphant as he sat at a table in the Hanged Man, right in between Merrill and Varric, and he looked up to see Sebastian walking into the dark and dingy hole in the middle of Lowtown.  Though, walking in would imply him actually being in the bar and for now only his eyes and the top of his nose were visible as he peered past the threshold.

“Even that’s gotta be a first for him,” Varric smirked, shuffling the cards with more expertise than one dwarf had any right to have.  “How much does Fenris owe you?”

There were a few, muttered choice Tevene words from the elf across from him and Hawke laughed.  “I don’t know what that means but from the scowl on your face I can tell it’s probably not good—“

“That’s just his face,” Anders supplied, keeping his gaze down at the parchment on the table.  The words were now directed in his direction and the blonde mage did nothing but shrug.

“Five sovereigns,” Hawke answered, reverting the conversation back to himself and Fenris glowered.  “He had  _very_  little faith in my persuasion tactics.  Anyway, the bet won’t be won until he crosses into the  _deplorable Hanged Man_ so if you’ll excuse me, I have some money to make.”  Hawke eased up from the bench and walked to the door, avoiding colliding into Nora as she turned around and making any kind of curse die off her lips with a smile.  He was good like that.  He leaned on the wall next to the door with one shoulder, head cocked slightly to the side.  “What are you doing, Sebastian?”

In truth, Sebastian  _didn’t_  know what he was doing there.  Hell, Sebastian didn’t know what he was doing in Lowtown without Hawke leading him on some goodwill mission or another.  But he had thought about what the dark-haired man had said and decided that yes, he would get to know the people whose backs he had in a fight and vice versa.  Now that he was here, though… now he wasn’t sure.  “I’m still deciding whether or not I’ll be joining you this evening.”

“You don’t need to make it sound so formal.  Fenris even left his greatsword at home and everything,” Hawke said with a definitive nod.  “Why would you not come in?  Are you wearing your armor—oh, you’re not.”  He realized as he pushed the door open a little further, giving him a cursory look up and down.  Sebastian had managed to look princely even out of the shining armor and Hawke grinned.  “Casual is a good look on you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Hawke, but I still haven’t—“

His protests were taken from him when Hawke grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the bar.  “I win!”  He called out and Fenris simply raised his hand in acknowledgement before returning to the game.  Hawke turned to Sebastian, who was looking around warily, seemingly inspecting every little detail, and he nudged him in the side.  “Look, I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, his eyebrows drawing together at the stressed out look on the ousted prince’s face.  “You okay?”

Sebastian half-nodded, half-shrugged as he continued his inspection of the place and Hawke was just about to ask again when he spoke up.  “I haven’t been inside of a bar since… since I was forced into the Chantry.”

“Shit… Sebastian I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“I haven’t made it public knowledge.  I’ve chosen to dedicate my life to Andraste and the Maker and I’ve not seen the appeal of self-poisoning since.”  His voice sounded so self-important that Hawke couldn’t help but make a face.  Sebastian’s eyes got wide.  “No I didn’t mean it like that.  I understand this must be an important bonding routine for you people—“

“You people?”  Even if the exiled prince had said ‘you’ instead of ‘you people’ Hawke could have dealt with it better, but the moment he thought about insulting his friends, the people who’ve become his family over the years, that’s where he crossed the line and Hawke became fiercely protective.  “I didn’t ask you out so you could insult  _these people_ ,” Hawke said, his voice low and his eyes narrowed.  “How many times has Varric saved you with Bianca?  Or Merrill with her magic?   _Those people_ , Sebastian, have saved your life too many times to count.”  Hawke didn’t realize his voice was getting louder until he stopped talking and realized the bar had grown mostly quiet, aside from that man who was always muttering about conspiracies.

Sebastian swallowed hard, the blush creeping up his neck to the tips of his ears.  He wasn’t used to being the center of attention, not anymore.  He’d gotten used to his quiet life and was content, for the most part, until Hawke had brought news of the Flint Company’s demise and that had reignited his passion in… well, anything.  “Hawke, you have to understand I am not comfortable out here.  I came out because of you—well, not because of you but sort of because of you… mostly because of you...” He let out a deep breath.  “Please allow me to apologize.  I didn’t mean for it to come out like it did and I meant no disrespect.  To any of you,” his voice rose.  Merrill waved, Varric muttered something to Isabela and Sebastian looked back at Hawke.  “I am truly sorry.”

There was more of a pause than Sebastian was ever comfortable with and Hawke finally sighed.  “It’s fine.  I probably just… overreacted or something.  Let’s start this over then.”

“How far are we starting over then?”

Hawke smirked.  “Well how about at least after you had that arrow whizzing past my face to keep those papers up on the Chanter’s Board?”

“Deal.”  And he didn’t protest this time when Hawke grabbed him by the arm and led him over to their table.

“Guys, look who I found!”  He looked over at Sebastian who was lowering himself down next to Anders.  “You gonna play?”

“Play?”

“We’re playing Wicked Grace, Choir Boy,” Varric said.  “Five silvers to start to be dealt in and you better hope you got the Maker on your side because Isabela is on a role tonight and she’s not taking any prisoners.”

Sebastian looked around almost nervously and Hawke  _almost_  felt bad for bringing him into this situation.  “I actually didn’t bring any money with me.”

“Did you think you were going to get by on your good looks?” Hawke teased and Sebastian’s eyes got wide as he began to protest and he was stopped.  “Relax, I’ll cover you.  He’s in.”

_______________

A few hours later and Isabela was glaring at Sebastian from over the top of her hand of cards.  It was down to the two of them and, despite how late it was getting, nobody dared move.  The Pirate Queen and the Reformed Chantry Brother had been going at it for the better part of the last hour.  Everyone else had dropped out, one by one, with Hawke being the last to hold that distinct honor, and even Anders’ attention was piqued as Varric dealt out the next hand once both players affirmed that yes, they were still going.

“Old habits die hard, it seems,” Varric muttered under his breath to Hawke, who was watching the displaced prince with growing intrigue.  The dwarf looked to his friend for any kind of a response and, when there was none, he rolled his eyes and put the quill back to parchment.  He didn’t want to forget a moment of this evening, hence the diligent note-taking.

Hawke had one hand casually wrapped around his mug, the other propping his chin up as he looked at the man who was finally giving Isabela a run for her money.  Sebastian seemed to be enjoying himself, or, at least, that’s what it looked like to Hawke.  He still wasn’t drinking, but he looked at ease in a way Hawke had  _never_  seen.  Hell, even his hair was mussed!  For some reason that observance absolutely tickled Hawke and he couldn’t keep the grin from crossing his lips.  He watched as Sebastian studied his cards, dark eyebrows furrowed over bright green eyes, and Hawke shifted in his seat.  The simple action caught Merrill’s attention and she grinned.

“He’s finally having fun,” she whispered, her head resting on Hawke’s shoulder casually.  He stifled a yawn and rested his cheek on the top of her head.  “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“You and me both,” Hawke replied.  “He actually looks… relaxed.  I didn’t know that was an emotion he was capable of.  I always figured it was all serious, all the time.”

“And judgey.  Don’t forget judgey,” the elf supplied and Hawke conceded that one.  “I see the way you’re looking at him.  You like Sebastian,” Merrill continued on before Hawke had the chance to ask her exactly _how_ he was looking at the other man to make her come to that conclusion.  And he hated to admit it, but Merrill was incredibly perceptive about this kind of thing… when it came to other people, of course.  If somebody had feelings for her they had to practically hit her over the head with it, as his own brother Carver could attest to.  But with other people… yeah, she was usually spot on.  “He looks at you too, you know.”

Hawke’s eyebrows nearly shot up at that observation and Merrill nodded, lips pressed together like she was trying hard not to let some huge secret slip.  She didn’t  _know_  anything for certain, of course, but Hawke also knew she wasn’t usually wrong about this kind of thing.  A lot of the time she’d tell the group about secrets she’d found out, simply from people-watching.  Hawke had remembered this one sister who was with the Chantry back in Lothering who’d divulged to Bethany that she used to be a bard, and now Hawke couldn’t help but wonder if the same was true about Merrill.  Then Varric had reminded him that Merrill had never even _been_ outside of her clan until they swooped her away a few years ago and Hawke had let it go.

But now his attention was back fully on Sebastian.  Sebastian, whose sleeves were pushed up, who had one arm on the table, who wet his bottom lip with just the tip of his tongue, slow enough to earn a low noise of approval from Merrill and enough to make Hawke have to adjust himself as discreetly as possible in his seat.  Everybody else was looking at Isabela whose turn it was, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the prince.  Sebastian’s eyes flicked up and caught with Hawke’s—and a smile appeared on his lips and was gone just as quick when he looked back down at his cards.  Hawke didn’t take offense to it, of course.  In a game like Wicked Grace with an opponent like Isabela, you couldn’t let your guard down or let a tell slip.  It was a lesson Sebastian knew all too well from his party days.  Hawke watched Sebastian’s hand raise from the table to rub along his jaw, now with the faintest trace of stubble and he was jarred from his thoughts, sitting up straight with Merrill still using his shoulder as a pillow, when Varric’s voice boomed over that of everybody else.

“Alright, this is for all of it,” he announced and everybody looked to the sizable pile of coin with the odd piece of jewelry sitting in the middle of the table, and then back to the two Wicked Grace combatants.  “Isabela, you first.”

There was a huge smile over Isabela’s face, her white teeth a stark contrast to her tanned skin, and she looked ridiculously pleased with herself as she all but slammed her five cards on the table.  “Three and two, Daggers high.”  She sat back in her chair before leaning forward, arms outstretched to collect her prize before Sebastian stopped her with a good-natured ‘tut-tut’.

“I do believe pride always comes before the fall.  Doesn’t it, Isabela?”  Sebastian grinned and Varric snorted.

“Shit talk from the Choir Boy.  If somebody ever told me I’d live to see  _this_  day…”

He trailed off as Sebastian laid his hand down, one by one to reveal the four Knights and, with a flourish, the Angel of Death card laid atop them.  There was a collective gasp and it’s like the bar suddenly woke up insofar as activity went.  People Sebastian didn’t even know were suddenly coming up to congratulate him, slapping him on the shoulder and offering to buy him drinks which he politely declined.  He caught eyes with Hawke across the table and smiled, a real, full smile this time, and Hawke felt that familiar stuttering feeling in his stomach while he quietly excused himself from Merrill, who decided Anders' shoulder was second-best for resting on, and walked over to the bar for a stronger drink.  Sebastian gathered up his winnings and began distributing the coin and jewelry back to their original owners, prompting a collective groan from the table, aside from Merrill who happily took back the clan pin she had bet even  _after_  Isabela had told her not to at least five teams _that evening alone_.

“Those are your winnings, Choir Boy,” Varric shook his head when Sebastian tried to return the money.  “And anyway, if you’re going to be giving that to anybody it would be Hawke. He’s the one who fronted you, remember?”

Sebastian looked around the table for said man and, when he couldn’t find him, his eyes traveled over to the bar.  And he couldn’t quite pinpoint why, but he felt a growing sense of jealousy when he saw a few women hanging onto his every sparse word.  Hawke didn’t seem to be in the mood to entertain (them at least) and Sebastian took that as his opportunity to approach him, after collecting his winnings and wishing everybody else at the table a good night.  One by one they dispersed and Sebastian felt himself standing so close to Hawke he could hear the disinterest in his voice as this woman started talking, in great detail, about wanting to hire him for her _own_  Deep Roads expedition,  _if he knew what she meant_ , and Sebastian rolled his eyes, hiding a laugh behind the back of his hand.  _Maker, she was embarrassing herself._

“Mind if I steal you away?”  Sebastian’s voice was so close to Hawke’s ear that he almost jumped and fell off the stool, and probably would have if Sebastian hadn't put his hand on Hawke’s waist to keep him right side up.  Hawke didn’t find himself struck speechless often, if at any time, actually, but there was a first time for everything and this was it.  He excused himself from the two young women, finished off whatever it was he’d been drinking and was on his feet next to Sebastian in a flash.

“You do realize you actually beat Isabela at her own game, right?”  Hawke laughed as they walked out of the front door of the Hanged Man back on their way to Hightown.  The rush of cool air felt good on his face and Sebastian watched as Hawke tilted his chin up, eyes closed as he enjoyed the cold and the dark-haired prince tried his best to ignore his heart beating faster.  Hawke looked calm and serene and it was a far cry from the take-no-prisoner, always-ready-with-a-sarcastic-comment demeanor Sebastian was used to seeing from him.  “She was cheating the whole time,” he murmured, like he was sharing some monumental secret with his friend.

“I gathered as much,” Sebastian replied.  “Fortunately for me I know how to combat it.  Oh, this is yours, by the way.”

He tried handing the small bag of his winnings over to Hawke, but he just shook his head and pushed it back, his fingertips brushing over Sebastian’s, shocking them both like a tiny volt of electricity.  “You won it, fair and square.”

“It was your money to begin with, Hawke.”

It was then that Hawke decided that he  _really_  liked the way Sebastian said his name and endeavored to try and get him to say it _much_ more often, and he shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter, you won it.”

“Elthina will not be happy if I show up with a bag of  _gambling winnings_.”

“So hide it.  Hey, it can be your ‘rebuilding an army to take back Starkhaven’ fund.”  Hawke looked all too pleased that he thought of that one off the top of his head and looked to Sebastian for confirmation that yes, yes it was a good idea and okay, that could happen.  Instead, he saw Sebastian shaking his head but (Hawke called this a win in his book) there was a smile on his face, and he tucked the bag of winnings into the side of his cloak.

The two walked in amicable silence past the Qunari compound and up the stairs leading to Hightown.  Sebastian kept looking sideways at Hawke, who could see this from his peripheral vision and Merrill’s word kept running through his mind:  “He looks at you too, you know,” and he swallowed dryly.  There was an undeniable attraction between the two and Hawke was torn when he looked up and saw them getting closer to his estate.  He would be the first one to depart and he found himself not wanting to leave Sebastian’s side just yet.  He was comfortable there, he felt  _right_  there.  Sebastian slowed to a walk beside him and Hawke turned, resigned to just calling it a night when anything he was going to say was cut off by Sebastian pressing his mouth against Hawke's.  The prince’s hands went up to Hawke’s shoulders and pushed him up against the wall, kissing him fervently, the full length of his body molding against his.  Hawke’s hands dropped to his waist and he pulled Sebastian even closer to him, eyes closed in pleasure when he heard the sound of approval from Sebastian, leaving virtually no room between the two of them, and he pressed his lips back to Sebastian's, returning the kiss eagerly.  They kept at it for a few more moments, one of Sebastian’s hands resting on the back of Hawke’s neck, fingers tightening in his dark hair to gather him close, and their lips finally parted, foreheads pressed to each others, their breaths coming out in short gasps.  Their bodies were still touching, the muscles in Hawke's torso and arms a pleasing compliment to the tautness of Sebastian's body.  Hawke was instantly grateful for the cold air against his now hot cheeks and Sebastian couldn’t help but smile.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” Sebastian murmured, trailing kisses along the older man’s jaw, earning him a very pleasing noise of approval from Hawke as he pressed his whole body up closer to Sebastian’s, his heart beating a mile a minute at this point.

“What stopped you before?” Hawke managed out, his eyes half-closed and he could feel his toes curling in his boots, moaning when he felt Sebastian’s teeth scrape right below his ear, sending a delicious chill up and down Hawke’s spine.

Sebastian grinned and kissed him again, slowly and deliberately paying attention to his now-swollen lips before pulling away, one hand still lingering on the back of Hawke’s neck, his fingers curling lazily through his hair, the other resting on his chest.  The combination of touches caused a quiet moan of wanting to emit from Hawke and Sebastian had to force himself to resist the urge to push Hawke back into his estate and have his way with him.  It was hard, _very_ hard for that matter, but common sense won out in the end.  “This is the first time you’ve invited me out,” he smirked.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hawke.”

With one more kiss, Hawke watched as Sebastian turned around and started walking toward the Chantry, watched until he couldn’t see him anymore and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.  But then he couldn’t keep the grin off his face and turned around, entering his home.  “Tomorrow indeed.”


End file.
